


We Don’t Need Mistletoe

by everydayistuesday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Has a Crush on Dean Winchester, Christmas Decorating, Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, First Kiss, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mistletoe, One-Shot, it might be more than a crush, no idea what season this takes place in, probably 14 or an alternate 15 or 16, take your pick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydayistuesday/pseuds/everydayistuesday
Summary: For some reason, there’s a picture of Cas on top of the Winchester’s Christmas tree. When Cas asks Dean about it, he’s roped into decorating. Mistletoe is involved.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 52





	We Don’t Need Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 3am last night (this morning?) so any and all mistakes belong to me and my sleep-deprived brain. Basically, I smushed all of my favorite deancas Christmas headcannons into one fic. Happy holidays, y’all!

Cas wasn’t sure how to feel about their tree. 

  
He, Dean, Sam, and Jack had spent a large part of an afternoon decorating it. The majority of the process had been buying ornaments. Dean insisted that this year, air fresheners weren’t good enough. Cas had accompanied him to the store, where there were a number of ornaments, none of which were to Dean’s liking. Dean then decided that they were going to a Christmas market to find better ones. Several hours later and a bit poorer, they returned to the bunker laden with their spoils. 

Of all the ornaments, Cas’ favorite was probably the first one Dean had found — a black, classic car. It wasn’t a Chevy Impala, but it certainly reminded Cas of Dean’s Baby. There were a lot of fond memories from the Impala. The way the streetlights played off of Dean’s face as they drove down a road in the dead of night. Dean’s voice, belting the lyrics of Highway to Hell, off-key in an endearing way. Sinking into the back seat after a long hunt. 

There were other ornaments Cas liked as well; a glass bee he had convinced Dean to buy, hung up towards the top of the tree, a brightly colored sphere painted to look like an ugly sweater. Cas liked most of the ornaments. That wasn’t the problem he had with the tree. 

No, Cas’ uncertainty laid with the tree’s topper. 

Dean had stuck a picture of Cas on top of the tree. 

It was from a case they had been investigating some time ago. Dean had convinced Cas to wear a cowboy hat, of all things, to “blend in” with the locals. 

Even with his often fractured understanding of human culture, Cas had been fairly sure that it hadn’t helped with blending in. 

He had looked ridiculous with the beige hat perched on his head. For some reason, Dean, donning his own cowboy hat, had insisted on getting a picture of him. Then, he had asked the local sheriff to take a picture of the two of them together. 

For a few minutes, it had seemed that they weren’t on a case. It was just the two of them. Dean and Cas, Cas and Dean. Having fun. Fooling around like friends. Like maybe a little bit more than friends. 

(Cas pushed the last part down. Dean didn’t care for him like that.)

  
Cas wasn’t entirely sure why there was a picture of him dressed like a cowboy on top of the tree. So, he opted to ask Dean. 

  
Dean just winked. “Angels go on top of the tree,” he said. 

_ Was that a flirtation? _

Cas squinted at him. “I understand that custom, but why a picture of me on top of the tree?” 

  
He could have sworn Dean blushed. “Because you’re m — our angel. You’ve saved our asses more times than I want to admit, ya know? You deserve Christmas tree status.”

  
“Thank you?” Cas wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. “I… appreciate the gesture.” 

  
Dean grinned. “Anytime. Now c’mon, Sam’s sick of decorating and Jack is looking for cookie recipes. Someone’s gotta help me finish up with the rest of the stuff.” He gestured to a large box that was sitting on the library table. “You up for it?”

  
He couldn’t say no. “Of course, Dean.” 

They moved seamlessly, stringing lights across the tops of bookcases and putting knickknacks out on shelves. They worked in comfortable silence until Cas came to the bottom of the box. 

He pulled out a green sprig. “What’s this for?” Cas asked. “It’s fresh. I don’t remember you buying it earlier.”

“Oh, uh, it’s mistletoe,” Dean said. “Got it while you were staring at that bee ornament.”

“Is this a decoration as well, then?”

“Yeah.” Dean paused. “Cas — you’re telling me you don’t know what’s up with mistletoe? Seriously?” 

“This is the first holiday season I’ve experienced on earth that I’ve been able to enjoy. I actually know very little about the human customs for Christmas.”

Dean stared at him, green eyes wide. “You’re saying that I know more about something than you do?” 

Cas sighed. “Yes.”

“Awesome.” 

Cas took in his amused expression. The corners of his lips had turned up; not enough to be a full smile, but enough that he was willing to let Dean have this moment. 

“So how does mistletoe pertain to Christmas?” Cas said. 

“Well, uh, so, it gets hung up over doorways.” Dean moved from the other side of the room to take the plant from Cas. “Then if you’re standing under it with someone, you kiss.”

“You… kiss?”

“Yeah. Dunno how it started.” Dean shrugged, then headed for the doorway. “Hey, pass me the tape?” 

Cas grabbed the roll of black duct tape off of the table and walked over to pass it to Dean. 

Dean hummed in appreciation, then tore off a piece and fixed the mistletoe to the doorframe. 

They were standing under the mistletoe. 

“Dean,” Cas said slowly. 

“Huh?” He seemed to realize what had happened. “Oh.”

They stared at each other, unsure. 

“I thought you were going to throw the tape at me,” Dean said weakly. 

“I wasn’t thinking,” Cas told him. 

“Well, uh….” Dean’s eyes flitted to his lips. “You wanna…?”

Cas hardly dared breathe. 

_ Was Dean about to kiss him? _

“It, uh.” Cas cleared his throat. “It is tradition.”

Dean nodded, then without any other warning, leaned in. 

It was long and slow and perfect and  _ theirs.  _ Cas vaguely thought that now he wouldn’t have to imagine what it would feel like to he kissed by Dean (and how unique a torture it would be once this was over) and then he was drowning in him. 

When they broke apart, it was hesitant. They were still close enough that Cas could feel Dean’s breath. 

Neither of them spoke for a moment. 

Cas searched Dean’s eyes, then crossed the short distance between them. 

Dean went stiff. 

Cas pulled away, an apology on the tip of his tongue, when Dean put his hands on either side of Cas’ face and jammed their mouths back together. 

  
“Sorry. I didn’t —“ Dean was breathless. “I didn’t know you, uh —“

“Likewise,” Cas said. They were quiet for a bit before he added, “I think I like this tradition.”

Dean’s face broke into a wide grin. “Me too. Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Cas smiled back, radiant. “Merry Christmas, Dean. Does, uh, does that mean you… might be amenable to doing this even if we’re not under mistletoe?”

“Hell yeah. We don’t need mistletoe. I’ll do it wherever. Or whenever. I mean, if you want that.” 

If possible, Cas’ smile widened. “I do.”

“Good,” Dean said, and they leaned back in, decorating forgotten. 


End file.
